A Plague of Angels by Sheri S. Tepper

Author:Sheri S. Tepper [Tepper, Sheri S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: cookie429, Kat, Extratorrents
ISBN: 9780575116320
Publisher: Hachette Littlehampton
Published: 2011-09-28T22:00:00+00:00

The border of Artemisia, when the wagon reached it at last, was marked by signs printed in several languages, a widely spaced line of them stretching into the distance on either side. The signs forbade unauthorized entry. The highway, which they had not seen for a while, now appeared east of them, gleaming under the late-day sun of autumn, and they could make out a considerable gate standing athwart the pavement with a line of vehicles inching past it, smoking mechanical trucks and vans as well as horse-drawn wagons.

No barrier prevented their crossing in the same two ruts they had followed for days, ruts that ran past the signs and thence southward across endless vistas of dried tufty grass interrupted by thorny growths and feathery yellow puffs of rabbit brush. Olly had been in and out of the wagon all day, gathering the blooms for the golden-yellow dye they produced.

“Now what?” she asked over the armful of flowers she was tucking into a knotted string bag. “What do we do now, Sonny?”

He had said the name pinched him like new boots, so she used it every now and then, getting it broken in, she told him, against a time of need, often watching him as she did now to see his reaction.

There was no reaction. He merely braked the wagon and sat silently as he examined the surroundings. South of them was mostly flat, pinkish desert, dotted with dark balloons of piñon and juniper, gray brushes of sage and chamisa. Dropping the reins, Abasio climbed to the roof of the wagon, where he turned to make a full-circle examination of their surroundings. West were carved buttes and long rock-rimmed, tree-splotched diagonals thrusting toward towering clouds scudding along on their flat gray bottoms. Beyond the crenellated tablelands, indigo mountains lay in rumpled heaps, like dropped laundry, in some places rising into snow-capped peaks. Eastward was desert, and highway, and gate. In that direction the view had changed slightly, and he pointed with an outstretched arm.

“Somebody,” he said.

“Somebody coming, galope, galope,” murmured the guardian-angel from its customary position at the front of the wagon. Cermit had indulged himself with a bit of fancy work on the shutters behind the wagon seat, and the angel found the carved oak leaves an ideal perch.

Olly looked up, startled.

“Where?” she demanded.

Her companion pointed again toward the east, where a wobbly blot could be discerned moving toward them. At this distance, all they could really see was the scurrying motion of multiple legs and a minuscule increase in size. The rider appeared to be a large bird.

“Whoever it is, they’re coming from the direction of the guard post,” said Abasio. “Probably someone official. We might as well wait.” He draped the reins over the wagon seat and climbed down to join Olly on the ground. Big Blue heaved a sigh that made the harness creak and dragged the braked wheels forward until he was within reach of the tuft of green he’d been eyeing.

Olly stuffed the last

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